


De ja vu

by thatsthefrailtyofgenius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, standalone ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9277424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsthefrailtyofgenius/pseuds/thatsthefrailtyofgenius
Summary: Like father, like son.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little conversation I've had floating around in my head for a while. It most likely wont lead to anything else, and this is designed to be a ficlet to pass the time. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, and as always, thank you. 
> 
> Dee xx

“Father.”

Draco’s head lifts momentarily from where he’s writing a letter, acknowledging the flare of the floo from the other room and the sound of his thirteen-year-old son calling out to him. He smiles to himself and returns to his letter, although Scorpius knows he has his full attention; he always will.

“You will not _believe_ what Potter did yesterday.”

He… well, for lack of more dignified terms, Draco freezes up slightly, the words slipping from his son’s tongue like the ghost of a memory; a flash back to a young boy very similar to the one entering the room now. Far haughtier and a lot less morally inclined, but similar all the same. In fact, even the way Scorpius holds himself when he says it has Draco’s stomach flipping, with his smaller fists clenched at his sides and his blue eyes narrowed, lips in a pouty line.

“Oh dear lord not again,” Draco mutters, dropping his quill and dropping his head to his hand, his elbow on the desk supporting its weight.

“Stupid Potter with his stupid hair and stupid green eyes.”

“This cannot be happening-”

“And that stupid Gryffindor lot thinking they can get him on side and steal him away from us-”

“I do believe I am experiencing what the muggles coined ‘de ja vu’,” Lucius remarks from where he’s sat opposite Draco at the table, nursing a small glass of whiskey as he smirks and raises an eyebrow. Draco scowls at him.

“I was never like that.”

“No,” Lucius agrees, “you were worse.”

Scorpius hasn’t even noticed the exchange; he’s just prattling off a mile a minute about Albus Potter’s notorious disregard for rules. Draco clears his throat and adjusts himself from where he sits in his chair, straightening the waistcoat around his middle. Listening to the familiar garb makes him uncomfortable for reasons he refuses to fathom, and his own father’s clear amusement at the situation has Draco feeling even more uneasy.

“You poor thing,” Lucius interjects intermittently, making sounds of sympathy and poorly disguised preening.

“Scorpius,” Draco cuts in after about five minutes, “I know you like to vent, son, but you are repeating yourself now, and there is very little I can do to rectify anything you’ve just mentioned. I don’t suspect Potter senior would take kindly to me telling him how to bring up his child.”

“But-”

“As I would be just as offended if he tried to do the same thing.”

“Scorpius, my boy, are you certain this… animosity isn’t sprung from some sort of issue in yourself? Your father here never forgave Mr Potter for rejecting him when they were younger-”

“What your Grandfather is trying to say,” Draco speaks through gritted teeth as he digs the heel of his foot into Lucius’ toes under the table, smiling patronisingly as his father curses and narrows his eyes, “is that perhaps you’re so angry because Albus is more interested in the Gryffindors than in you?”

“Bullshit!”

“I beg your pardon?” Lucius snaps, eyes wide. Draco swallows a laugh and purses his lips, drawing in a breath before speaking again.

“Scorpius, language.”

“I – what you’re trying to say is ridiculous, father; we’re… Potter and I are friends. Nothing more. It is not my fault that he’s going to lose the house cup for Slytherin because he can’t behave himself.”

“Scorpius,” Draco says, “perhaps you could raise this issue with Albus himself?”

“You think I haven’t bloody tried? He’s stubborn as a damn mare.”

“Ah yes,” Lucius smirks again, “I do recall-”

“We’re going around in circles now, and dinner should be ready. Scorpius, are you staying for food?”

“Nah,” Scorpius sighs heavily, and Draco smiles at his son’s inherited flare for the dramatics, “I’ve got a potions essay to write. Thanks though, Dad.”

“Whatever for?”

“Listening.”

Lucius ducks his head to hide a proud smile this time, and Draco stands, moving to crouch in front of his son.

“I’ll tell you what, seeing as I’m in a good mood, I’ll give you a tip.”

“What?” Scorpius looks interested, eyebrows hitting the top of his head.

“Be nice to him.”

“But-”

“Nothing confuses your enemies more than when you’re kind to them. Be perfectly sweet, and it will drive Albus insane trying to figure out what your angle is, waiting for your next hit. I might have gotten somewhere with Albus’ father over the years if I had been less of an ass.”

Scorpius considers him for a moment, eyes skitting around his face, searching for something. Draco doesn’t know if he finds what he’s looking for, but eventually, his lips curve into the most shit eating grin he’s ever seen. Draco winks at him and ruffles his hair as he pushes back up to full height.

“Now off with you,” Draco says, shooing him, “there is work to be done.”


End file.
